


ew, parties

by orphan_account



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Stenbrough, Fluff with a hint of angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, High School AU, M/M, it 2019??? never heard of her, modern-ish AU, o they CUTE cute, richie has a brother lmao, teen reddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He refused to entertain the recklessness that everyone around him reveled in. Call him uptight—he didn't care. He just wanted to get the hell out of that disgusting-ass house before his asthma started acting up.oreddie hates parties but when he meets a hot guy with glasses and curly hair outside he decides that maybe theyre not too bad
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hell yeah REDDIE CONTENT plz enjoy

Eddie shouldn't have come. 

He knew in the pit of his stomach that he should have said no when Bill invited him to go to this stupid party—staying home and watching Netflix sounded much more fun than going to a house party with a bunch of hormonal, drunk teenagers. Everywhere he turned, there was either someone in the middle of an intense makeout session or throwing up. Despite being in one of the largest houses on the block, there was no safe place to sulk.

Even worse, Bill had wandered off with his boyfriend, Stan, and they were probably getting wasted. His head pounded from the loud, distasteful music that blared from the loudspeakers and the stench of sweat that practically engulfed the entire neighborhood.

He refused to entertain the recklessness that everyone around him reveled in. Call him uptight—he didn't care. He just wanted to get the hell out of that disgusting-ass house before his asthma started acting up.

He wormed his way through the crowd, brushing past all types of people—drunk, tipsy, high, you name it, and they were probably there—to get to Bill. His eyes scanned all of the rooms with opened doors, not daring to set foot in any of the closed bedrooms, knowing that he would likely be scarred for life at the sight of what was beyond the thin walls.

By the time he found his friend standing over by the punch table, he was two seconds away from gagging after witnessing a sophomore miss the trashcan and vomit all over the hardwood floor.

Bill turned around, seeming startled at the sudden tap on his shoulder. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the figure in front of him. "He-hello?"

Eddie's gaze fell to the red cup in his hands, finally noticing how flush Bill's face was. "Bill, are you fucking serious?"

His pupils were dilated too. If he wasn't drunk, Eddie concluded that he was definitely close to it. "W-wha-what's wrong?"

"I thought we agreed on not getting wasted tonight." He could feel his voice straining as he tried to yell over the music.

"I c-couldn't- couldn't hel-help it," his friend slurred, lazily swaying from one foot to the other. Eddie wanted to screech. "It j-just looked so go-good."

He settled with rolling his eyes. "Where's Stanley?" 

"I'm right here." A voice came from behind him and he had to tilt his head slightly to make eye contact with the teenager. "What's up?"

"Are you sober?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, thank _fuck,_ " Eddie exhaled, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders at the sight of someone in their right mind. "Listen, I really don't want to be here anymore. Do you think you could watch over Bill? Make sure he doesn't try and drive himself home?"

Stan looked over at his boyfriend, watching as he sang loudly and swayed to a rhythm that was definitely not the same as the song booming from the living room. He would die of mortification if he realized what he was doing.

That's what Eddie hated about alcohol—the lack of control. He couldn't imagine willingly drinking a beverage that would cause him to act or say something without it going through his filter first.

"Yeah, I'll take care of him," he nodded, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walked past him to get to his boyfriend. "I know parties aren't really your thing, so go ahead. I'll drive him to his place after we're done here."

"You're a fucking godsend, Stan. Thank you." Eddie didn't stick around any longer before making his way toward the front door. He pushed past the swarm of people with as little skin-to-skin contact as humanly possible.

When he finally got outside, he could've cried at the feeling of crisp air filling his lungs after being stuck inside a house full of weed, cigarettes, and alcohol for an hour and a half straight. 

"Leaving so soon?" A voice came from his left. Eddie jumped a little, looking over to see a young man with dark, curly hair leaning his back against the house. He looked to be around the same age as Eddie—a senior at most. 

Eddie looked over his shoulder, seeing if he was calling out to someone else. They seemed to be the only two outside.

"Yes, I am indeed talking to you, fannypack."

"My name is Eddie, actually," he subconsciously adjusted the bag around his waist, sounding far more defensive than he originally intended to.

The boy only laughed, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Sorry, Eds. I didn't mean to strike a nerve—for what it's worth, I think your fanny pack looks cute."

"It's Eddie," he repeated, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his compliment. "who the hell are you?"

"Richie Tozier."

The shorter boy blinked. "Trashmouth."

"The one and only." Richie pushed off the building and took a few steps in his direction, a horrible British accent flowing from his lips along with the cigarette smoke. "I see my reputation precedes me."

"You're the kid that had the balls to stand up to Bowers." Eddie raised both of his brows, feeling almost impressed. _Almost._

"So you do know who I am." 

"It's hard not to. You have the biggest mouth in the entire school," his gaze fell down the white cylinder lazily hanging in between Richie's lips. "Also, that's slowly killing you, you know."

Richie smiled again, shoving his cigarette in the ashtray and twisting it to extinguish the flame. "There. Happy now, Eds?"

"Don't call me Eds, asshole."

"Whatever tickles your peach, Eddie Spaghetti," he willingly ignored the annoyed huff that came from the teen as he took another couple of steps toward him. "So, tell me, what brings you to my humble abode?"

He blinked. "This is _your_ house?"

"You should pick your jaw up from the ground before a bug flies down your throat," Richie stood face-to-face with him now, laughing at his own comment. Eddie was finally able to get a good look at him—his eyes scanning over the boy's prominent cheekbones and sharp jawline. He was quite handsome. "Don't worry, though, babe. Parties aren't really my thing—my brother is the one that decided to throw this fun little gathering."

As if on cue, the sound of someone vomiting came from inside the large house. Eddie cringed. "Yeah, fun."

"What do you say we leave this shithole? Go on an adventure?" Richie's question caught the smaller boy completely off-guard. "There's a cafe down the road."

Eddie narrowed his eyes at him. "What makes you think I want to leave with you, Trashmouth?" 

"Well, I suppose we don't have to, but I didn't want to let such an opportunity slip through my fingers." He cracked another annoyingly charming smile. "Especially with someone as cute as you."

"I'm not fucking cute, dickwad," he mumbled, glancing at his watch. He still had a good forty-five minutes until curfew—so, with a sigh, he looked back up at the teen. "Alright, fine, but I have to be home by eleven."

Richie smiled, his eyes nearly sparkling. "I can make that happen."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this moves a lil fast but honestly reddie's chemistry is so powerful it transcends all natural interaction regardless of what au u put them in my great great great great grandma told me that once so u can trust me

"Chug, chug, _chug, chug!_ " 

"This is diet fucking root beer, Trashmouth." Eddie sucked in a breath to keep himself from laughing as he lowered the glass away from his lips. The teen across from him cracked a dorky smile and pushed his glasses up, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, so what? Chug."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I could list about twenty-six reasons why chugging an entire cup of pop at once would be a stupid fucking decision."

If you told him at school earlier that he would be spending the rest of his Friday night with _Richie_ fucking _Tozier_ , he would have laughed in your face. 

Yet, as he looked at the curly-haired boy across the table, he couldn't think of any other place he would rather be at that moment. 

Richie proved to have good taste in eateries. The vintage cafe was a lot more atmospheric than Eddie thought it would be—with black and white checkered flooring, an old jukebox softly playing music in the corner, and several sets of empty booths around them—he decided it made the perfect spot.

And as much as he hated to admit it, having Richie there made it even better. 

Eddie must have been staring for longer than he planned to because the teen's lips curled into another smile as he did an overly-dramatic pose. "Take a picture, Eds. It'll last longer."

"Fuck off," he muttered, his entire face turning red as he narrowed his eyes. "And didn't I tell you not to call me that?"

"Lots of people tell me lots of things. Hard to keep track anymore, but hey, I guess popularity will do that to you." Richie took a sip of his Pepsi to hide his excitement when Eddie giggled at his comment. He had been trying to get the smaller boy to laugh all night, which proved to be very difficult—but he loved a challenge.

"You're basically at the bottom of the social food chain, but okay."

Richie laughed at the cheap dig. "Damn, Eds. Tell me how you really feel."

Eddie snickered as he leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased by the boy's reaction. They had only known each other for thirty minutes, but he was already starting to feel comfortable around him. Maybe it was his carefree spirit or his stupid fucking glasses—regardless, he was enjoying himself.

Richie suddenly jolted, blinking several times as he looked around the room suspiciously. "Wait, wait, shut up."

"I wasn't talking, _dipshit-_ "

"This _song!_ " His lips curled up into another smile when Eddie stopped stirring his cup to listen. He recognized it instantly—Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede. It was on one of his secret playlists. He only listened to it with an Incognito browser, in fear of his mom seeing and taking his laptop away. She checked his search history daily.

"What about it?" Eddie's foot tapped under the table, his quiet movements syncing to the beat of the music.

Richie looked around the now empty cafe. The tables looked abandoned, and the waitress that stood at the counter when they first arrived seemed to be in the back. He turned back to Eddie. "Let's dance."

The smaller boy blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said _let's dance,_ " he repeated, excitement clear in his tone as he stood up, extending a hand to Eddie.

He eyed it suspiciously. "What if someone sees?"

"Who cares?" Richie smiled, pushing up his glasses with his spare hand. "George Washington once said, _'live life on the edge,'_ and I fucking take that to heart."

"George Washington did not fucking say that," Eddie snorted but took Richie's hand anyway. 

"Maybe it was George Lucas."

He felt his ears burn when Richie snaked his hand around Eddie's waist. "Do you ever shut up?"

"You're always welcome to make me," he laughed as they started swaying from side to side to the beat of the music.

Eddie knew if someone he knew saw him in this situation, he would die of mortification—he was dancing with a boy he had just met in an old cafe, for fuck's sake—but he couldn't bring himself to care. Their faces were so close that he could see Richie's freckles.

"Oh, _shit-_ " he made an embarrassing squeal-like noise when Richie decided to dip him. He ended up losing his grip, laughing as the two nearly dropped to the floor. Eddie quickly caught himself—the floor was fucking disgusting, and he was not about to let his clothes touch it. "Dude, _what_ the _fuck?_ "

Richie didn't bother to hide his amusement. "Sorry, Eds. I guess you could say I'm already falling for you."

It might have been the stupidest pun he'd ever heard, but Eddie couldn't help the way his pulse skipped at his words. Richie only laughed harder at the flustered expression on the boy's face. "Fuck off, Trashmouth."

"Only if you insist, my good sir," Richie said in a comically bad English accent. Eddie rolled his eyes but he couldn't keep a small smile from growing on his face. 

"God, you're so annoying."

The two stood in the cafe, a calmness lingering between them. A different song played in the background—one that Eddie didn't recognize—as he walked over to their booth, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He looked over at Richie, a smug smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "Are you going to walk me home? Or are you more of a dance-and-bolt kind of guy?" 

He let out a laugh, his dark curls bobbing against his forehead. "Am I already on my way to third base? Why, I would _never_ pass up such an opportunity-"

"Can you just shut up before I change my mind?"

-

The two walked down the suburbs of Derry, gravel crackling against the soles of their shoes. Eddie turned to the other boy, a soft smile written on his features. "Listen, I, uh, I had a nice time tonight. I suppose you're not as unbearable as I assumed you would be."

"Aw, Eds. Going soft for little ol' me?" Richie grinned when Eddie rolled his eyes, giving him a shove to the shoulder. "I had a good time too. And don't worry—I don't say that to all the boys I dance in cafes with."

"You're so fucking full of yourself, it's literally unbelievable." Eddie wanted to be serious, but it proved to be futile as laughter bubbled in his chest. 

They walked in comfortable silence until they reached his house. Eddie tried not to think about how disappointed Richie looked as they both halted their movements. "Well, this is my stop."

"Oh, okay," The boy glanced over at the house. It looked a little smaller than his own but still decently large—there were flowers lining the dimly lit porch. "We should-"

"-do this again sometime." The smaller boy smiled at Richie. For the first time all night, Eddie could have sworn to see a faint blush covering the other's face. "I agree."

They sat in silence for a moment before Eddie pulled a pen out of his fanny pack. He reached out and grabbed Richie's wrist, positioning it in a way that he could write on his forearm. The boy squirmed at the feeling of cold ink leaking onto his skin. "Whoa, what are you doing-?"

After Eddie finished writing, he gave a sheepish smile. "It's my number. Text me."

"You know, you could've just asked for my phone. I don't know if you got the memo, but it is indeed the 21st century." Richie tried his hardest to hide the fact that he was beaming at the thought of getting a cute boy's number.

"You're no fun," Eddie rolled his eyes before looking over at his house. "I should probably head inside."

Richie sighed. "Yeah, I guess you should."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when Eddie turned back to him, but it was definitely not a swift fucking _kiss_ on the cheek. His eyes widened and his heart skipped a few beats as the boy pulled away.

"I'll- I'll text you," Richie's voice cracked embarrassingly and he cleared his throat, resisting the urge to reach his hand up to where Eddie's lips were moments ago.

Eddie's nearly laughed at the tall boy's expression, but he decided not to, seeing as his own face was burning as well. "I'll be waiting."

"Have a good night, Eds."

"You too," he smiled, sparing a second glance at the boy before walking into his house. He opened and shut the door as quietly as he could, slipping his shoes off at the entrance and tip-toed past the living room, where his mother dozed off in the recliner. 

After he made it up the stairs, Eddie collapsed onto his bed, shoving a pillow over his burning face. The butterflies in his stomach hadn't left since he gave Richie that peck on the cheek.

Eddie stayed like that for a minute or so, trying to calm his rapidly pulsing heart and also trying not to fucking squeal like a little schoolgirl. He almost succeeded—until he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

He scrambled to get the device out of his pocket, beaming at the message from an unknown number:

_totally and utterly disappointed that i didnt get a real kiss butttt it gives me a better reason 2 take u out again_

_with love, ur favorite trashmouth_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eddie fangirling over richie? yes   
> richie fangirling over eddie? fuck yes
> 
> hope u guys enjoyed this lil thing


End file.
